


Geometry of a Triangle

by tatooedlaura



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s06e03 Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:09:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: because sometimes you just need to sit by the hospital bed ...
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Geometry of a Triangle

“Oh, brother.”

With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”

“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”

The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”

Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.

She really fucking hated panic mode.

Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.

Whatever.

She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.

And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye given mortal embarrassment.

She needed a vacation.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, many deep breaths later, she was back at his door, numbered 342 in the grand scheme but from her last count, it was hospital room number 206, give or take; she also counted emergency room curtained off areas as rooms so her count might be a little skewed.

Walking back in without knocking, she thought maybe he’d be asleep and she could do her thing and go home to warm bed, fragrant bath, cup of hot chocolate, not necessarily in that order. He wasn’t asleep, however, instead looking up at her, tracking her as she carefully shut the door, turned, crossed her arms, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“I had to get rid of them before I could …” her voice cracked here, tears rushing to the surface, falling freely down her cheeks in under a second.

Mulder tried to get up but was forced back down by gravity and dizziness, so instead, he reached out his hand, “come here. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“If you wouldn’t do such stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t have to cry.” Swiping her face, the torrent already slowing to a trickle, she sniffed hard, “maybe you’re like a puppy. You need a good swat every now and then in order to learn not to put me through this crap.”

Beside his bed by now, he reached his hand out, hooking it in the pocket of her jacket, “I have never intentionally set out to make you cry. I swear.”

Growling at him, she dried her face one last time with her fingers, looking down at him, “did you really say earlier that you loved me? How many drugs are you on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You should know. You’re the doc, doc.”

Moving to see his chart again, she zoned in on the narcotics area, perusing then sifting through her memory, “looks like plenty. More than enough to say all kinds of incriminating things.”

Looking at her sheepishly, “did I really say ‘I love you’ though?”

And her heart jumped then sank, bobbed back to the surface and sank again, “you don’t remember?” He looked innocently guilty and she tilted her head at him, “I won’t hold it against you then.”

“Thanks.”

Moving back to his side, she pulled the chair over, slotting her feet in the undercarriage of the bed and settling back, head comfortable after a moment, Mulder’s fingers wiggling in her direction, his discreet invite to hold his hand while they fell asleep.

She both hated and loved their routines.

“I really am sorry I always make you cry.”

“I can’t imagine this life without you, Mulder, such as it is.” Thinking back to all the times she’d cried for him, both inside and out, “I have often wished that my stress levels weren’t congruent to the production of my tear ducts but they are and we have both learned to live with that.”

“I still hate that I make you cry.”

Squeezing his fingers, “go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

&&&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, she expected him to be deep in dreamland but looking in his direction once she realized she didn’t hear his whistle-snoring nose, she saw his eyes open, staring intently at her, studying form and function of his Scully, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Trying to ignore my headache while I think about a few things.”

Dusk was dropping outside, their room growing dim and soft, her voice quiet across the vast region between them, “what kinds of things?”

“Nazis and Thor’s hammer and shiny red dresses.”

He must be wandering his delusions again and she figured, why not wade in with him, “were the Nazis wearing the red dresses?”

“No, thank God but you were.”

“I was wearing a shiny red dress? How did I look?”

“If I answer that question, you’ll hit me again.”

Maybe she shouldn’t play into his medication after all, “well, why don’t you go to sleep and dream about things and tomorrow, we will get another head scan.”

The side of his face ached from her 1939 clenched fist and deciding to go for broke, given he knew she’d chock up anything he said to drug-addled haze, “your hair was slicked back, pin-curled, perfect even as we ran up and down the halls, thwarting Nazis and trying to find a way to get me home.” Continuing when all she did was tilt her head, listening with both ear and he hoped, heart, “you saved the world in a knee-length dark red dress and heels and,” pinpoint focus on her darkening blue eyes, “you looked more beautiful than I’ve ever deserved to see you.”

Oh, she could so easily be dragged into his delirium … dream … reality …

This was headed to a bad place and she needed to stop the train before she got fully onboard, believing every last word falling from his lips, “I always thought I looked pretty good in my pajama pants and Yosemite Sam t-shirt.”

“That’s my t-shirt, by the way.”

Returning to lightness even as her heart pounded unexpectedly in her chest, “you say yours, I say mine. I keep it. We both win.”

“How do I win?”

Was she really going to say it?

“Because you get to see me in it.”

She said it.

“If I ever find that red dress, Scully, I’m buying it and you’re wearing it and we’re going out on the town to make sure everyone sees you in it. There’ll be so many guys falling at your feet, you won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’ll just stand there and let them swoon?”

“And then you’ll come home with me.”

She felt the blush blooming across her chest and crawling up her face, “you need to go to sleep, Mulder. As both your doctor and your …” she hesitated without understanding why, partner seeming cold, friend seeming inadequate, anything other distinction making her blush even more, “you need to get some sleep, Mulder and so do I.” Standing quickly, squeaking chair legs against tile, “I should probably go. I’ll pick up some clothes for you and bring them back tomorrow when they release you, okay?”

She still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Odd.

In fact, her fingers were firmly joined with his, zippered closed, thumb stroking thumb.

Very odd.

“Hey, Scully,” tugging her hand so she moved towards him, she leaned across the bar of the bed once again.

“Yes?”

“Be with me tonight. Spring me from this place and take me home and hover and feed me meds and check my stitches and just … be with me.”

Another ‘oh, brother’ should have risen up her throat, fallen to his ears but instead, she leaned in even more, “let me go find a doctor.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was finagling and promising and coercion to the highest levels but in the end, she helped him off the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, setting him on the bed, taking in his weary eyes, his pale face, “you look terrible.”

Not able to argue such a valid point, “could you find me something to wear, please? I feel like I’m about to die or at the very least, begin having hallucinations of pink elephants playing poker in the corner.”

Not about to dispute the obvious, pink elephants fairly likely at this point in their day, “can you sit up for a second or do you want to lay down while I find things?”

Hands firmly gripping mattress edge, “I’ve got it. Just don’t leave.”

She’d return to that statement later on but for now, “I’ll be back.”

At the dresser, she pulled out stuff for both of them, missing the Yosemite Sam shirt but happy with her find of ‘Sit on it, Potsie’ black, frayed glory. Soon, she was back beside him, gently pulling his shirt over his head, wincing along with him when she passed the collar over his bruise-darkening eye. Pants weren’t too difficult, Scully holding his arm for balance while he dropped scrubs and pulled up ratty sweatpants, “remind me not to follow any ghosts ships in the near future.”

“No.”

He smiled as best he could but most of his energy and being was wrapped up in desperate need to lay down, go to sleep, rid his head of the terrible pounding that had wedged itself behind his eyes, “did you bring drugs home with you?”

“Several. What color do you want?”

“Rainbow me up, please? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Drugs swallowed, Scully changed – he would comment on her shirt at some point in the evening – and after tucking him in, she turned out the light but came back to his side, “I’m going to go sleep out on the couch, okay? Do you need anything?”

Even through pain and wavering reality, “be with me, remember? The couch is too far.” Indicating over his shoulder, eyes already closing for longer and longer intervals, “I have plenty of room behind me, softest mattress in the place, I promise.”

She could seriously just wait two minutes then go out to the couch, he’d never know but Scully being Scully, especially tonight, especially now, especially here, “okay but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m kicking back.”

Slurred, sleepy, “I’ll try not to kiss you in your sleep, promise.”

Nearly correcting him, she instead checked the front door locks one more time, then, incremental debate later, folded back the covers opposite him, sheets cool, pillow shockingly comfortable. She’ll admit it, she may have let out a slight, happy, back of the throat groan when her head sank down into it.

This pillow may have to go the way of Yosemite.

&&&&&&&&&&

Never expecting to fall asleep so quickly, she had no idea she had until she found herself blinking, eyes rolling and lids sticky. Concept of time had disappeared, clock telling her it was after 2 am but mind firmly believing she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Wondering what had woken her, she turned to her other side, coming face to face with Mulder, still asleep but hand twitching, searching.

He must have touched her back while he moved and taking his wandering fingers, she was surprised when he bought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I should have kissed you again after you hit me.”

Wondering if he was still dreaming, “Mulder?”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide awake like she’d never seen him, “You saved the world and I should have kissed you again.”

“You kissed me?”

Smiling, his eyes closed, drifting back to dreams, “and I want to do it again.”

Still back on the last statement, “you kissed me?” He answered with a deep sigh, sleep capturing the conversation in limbo and driving her forward, 2 am a thing of both beauty and shadow, she maneuvered to get her lips to his, a light brush, a tentative touch, a fleeting taste, “I love you, too, Mulder.”


End file.
